


Tell Me A Secret

by griners



Category: Football RPF, gerlonso - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griners/pseuds/griners
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You used to smile more.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me A Secret

“You used to smile more.”

Xabi sighs, glances at him and he’s begging, pleading he doesn’t go there through words that die on his tongue. “Steven...”

“Sorry,” he says, not sorry at all. And he can’t help- “You used to _smile_.”

( _This is it, the end. So hold your breath, count to nine, then to ten.)_

.

“I’m glad to play with you.”

Steven hums interrogatively, turning to Xabi as opposed to eyeing a drunk Carra at the end of the table.

“I mean, it would be awful to play against you.” Xabi thumbs the label of his beer, stumbling with the slur of his words.

It’s late, the night’s been dragging on for hours, and Steven is lazy and happy due to the alcohol, and his non-drunk self knows he shouldn’t ask, but he does- and he does because, well, there’s not a reason, not even an excuse, but- “Why?”

Xabi shrugs in an unaccomplished nonchalance, rubs the back of his neck as he weighs his words. “You are very good.”

Steven slides closer to him, smiles, looks at him ( _really_ looks at him). “You are too.”

( _Feel the earth move (with the beat of our hearts))._

.

“You see this?” Steven asks, and he’s holding up Xabi’s shirt (his _red_ shirt), and he reads his name over and over again until his eyes have memorized the shape of every letter and the tone of every red and Xabi thinks, _it’s beautiful_. “This is sacred. You defend this with your heart, understood?” _This is what matters._

Xabi nods, and Steven hands it to him, and Xabi tries not to let his fingers linger on the Liverpool crest. “You give your soul to it until your contract ends.”

But Xabi frowns- because no- no. “For life,” and he looks up at Steven, who’s watching him with serious eyes. “I’ll defend this for life.”

And Steven stares, and stares, and in the quiet, a smile breaks through his lips. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

( _This is the end. You don’t know, couldn’t know, but I’ve drowned and dreamt of this moment.)_

.

“Sometimes I think I’d die happy.”

Steven chokes on his food, shoots Xabi a look that’s close to a murdering one. “What the fuck?”

Xabi grins, stuffing his mouth with pasta. “I would.” He nods eagerly, waits for Steven to shake the disapproving glare off before continuing. “I love England.”

“But... Spain’s your home.”

Xabi clears his throat lightly, and there’s an itch at the back- like maybe he’s regretting ever saying anything- like maybe it’s not about the topic, but the words. “Yes. But I love England.”

Steven raises an eyebrow, doesn’t say anything as he takes a long drink out of his beer. “Is that why you’d die happy? Because you love England?”

 _Deep breath. Let it out._ “And Liverpool, Stevie. I love Liverpool too.”

 _And you, Stevie, I love you too_ , and to Xabi’s pure mortification, Steven seems to get that last part as well.

( _This is so overdue, I owe you already. I was swept away- it wasn’t fair- the love, stolen from me.)_

.

“It’s not about you leaving. Or not coming back. It’s about- fuck, it’s about not knowing what it’s about and it’s killing me. Ok?”

Xabi swallows dryly, takes a look around to make sure the locker room is empty. He presses the phone closer to his ear, breathes in shakily- “Do you want me to tell you what it’s about?”

And Steven wants to say yes, please God yes, because he’s been desperate, he’s been searching in every corner and thinking like a starved man would beg for bread but he can’t- he just can’t, he doesn’t know _what_ it is. But fuck, he doesn’t want to know either, because he’s sure it’s horrible, broken, he’s sure it’ll tear that last piece of him, and yet- sometimes- he wonders if ( _maybe_ ) it’s been taken already.

“Yes.”

“It’s about emptiness.” And the words struggle on their way through. “You feel empty.”

Xabi speaks from experience, says a tell-tale whisper revealing the charge in his voice. And Steven thinks, _since you left, yes, emptiness._

( _Let_ _the sky, and the earth, and everything else fall, because someday we’ll build it back up. Together._ )

.

Xabi’s lying on his stomach, and Steven’s beside him, and the atmosphere is heavy and thick and beautiful.

“The sheets are white,” Xabi says, with no real purpose at all. “Your walls are white.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Xabi turns his head slightly towards him. “But your blood, it’s not.”

“Why would it be white?” _Because, you know, I’m not the one with double loyalties._

Xabi gazes at Steven for an eternity drawn in stretched, never-ending seconds. Until finally, “Your heart, it’s red.”

And Steven smiles (tells a secret) (likes this secret, for a change), “So is yours.”

( _And remember, we’re together- at skyfall. But you’re still not smiling, not there, anyway.)_


End file.
